


Crisis of Confidence

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a discouraging experience, Lewis struggles with his self-confidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is how it happens.

Robbie is at a training seminar. At the beginning, he is engaged, involved. He is talking, offering answers. The bloke leading the session smiles and smiles and somehow manages to point out, every time, all the ways in which Robbie is wrong.

Three days in, Robbie stops offering answers. By the end of the two weeks, he's not talking at all. He can't stop seeing all the ways everything he comes up with is wrong, not now that it's in his head. And he doesn't want to be wrong. So he is silent instead.

James notices when Robbie comes back. Gives him ample opportunities to talk, to explain what's happened. But even if Robbie could talk, what would he say? How can he tell James that he's doubting himself the most he ever has since he was a PC? How can he admit that to someone he's supposed to be taking charge of? So he smiles and stays quiet, and although James knows it's not normal, not even close to normal, he doesn't know what else to do to help.

Eventually James starts talking more to try to bridge the gap, to try to fill the silence between them, and Robbie appreciates it. But James is trying to be cheerful, to talk about things that won't upset him, and he keeps talking about other people in the nick and trying to tell funny stories, and all Robbie can hear is how everyone in the nick is brilliant but him. That's not what James is saying, and Robbie knows that, but somehow that's all he can hear.

Everyone knows something is wrong because they have never seen him like this. But no one knows what to do. And Robbie can't tell them because he doesn't know either.

Robbie has been staring at his computer for half an hour one night when he looks up and sees James in the doorway.

"You don't have to stay and look after me," Robbie tells him.

But James doesn't move. Not a muscle. And the message is clear as anything he has ever said: _yes, I do._

Robbie can feel himself crumbling in the face of such clear caring. He doesn't know what to do. He just…he doesn't know what to do any more. About anything.

James enters the office, pulling his chair up in front of Robbie's desk and sitting down.

"Can you tell me?" James asks quietly.

Robbie shakes his head no.

James nods, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you think," Robbie begins, but he can't think how to end the sentence. _Do you think I'm out of touch? Do you think I'm too old to be a good copper? Do you think my instincts are old-fashioned and wrong?_

James waits patiently for the rest of the sentence, but Robbie just shakes his head. He can't finish. He doesn't know what to say.

"I'm going to find that seminar leader and make him bring you back the way he found you," James said, a slight note of humour in his voice but not enough so Robbie feels he's being mocked.

"I wish you would," Robbie says. "I don't like this any more than you do."

James touches Robbie's shoulder. "Come on. We haven't gone down the pub since you've come back."

Robbie manages a smile. "What would Morse say to that, I wonder?"

"According to my sources, he'd say 'Lewis!'" And James's sources must be good, because he's got the exasperated tone just right, the sibilant hiss of the s at the end of his name cutting off just before the point of ludicrousness.

"Sometimes I still miss him." Robbie hadn't known he was going to say that, and he hesitates, ready to apologise if James feels insulted by the comment.

But James merely nods. "Of course you do." It could be Robbie's imagination, but he almost feels the words _just as I would miss you_ hanging in the air. James stands. "Come on."

Robbie nods, picking up his coat, and for the first time in a long while, he can feel the vestiges of his old self somewhere nearby. It's a welcome feeling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as commentfic on Paperscribe's journal in response to her posting of the original story (chapter 1 on this site).

This has to be as close to their usual pub sessions as possible, James reminds himself as he pays for their drinks. Anything different – anything Lewis would interpret as him being _kind_ , or (even worse) any hint that he actually knows a little of what went on at that disgraceful seminar – and Lewis would shut down and the trust there is between them would be destroyed.

"There you are, sir. That's a pint of Bridge, in case you don't recognise it."

"Oi, it's not been that long," Lewis protests. "And even if it had been, I've still seen the inside of more pubs than you'll ever do in your lifetime, sergeant."

Now, there's a useful opening. "With Chief Inspector Morse? Is it true that he left you money in his will because he owed you for thousands of pints over the years?"

Lewis blinks. "Where'd you hear that, then?"

James shrugs. "Station gossip."

Lewis shakes his head. "Should've known. Yeah, he left me money - a third of his estate, as it happens. Wasn't a lot after everything was sorted, though that wasn't the point. I never expected it, an' if you'd known Morse you'd've known why. Most of the time, he acted like he could barely tolerate me. But that was just the way he was." He takes a long drink of his pint. "But, yeah, he had a talent for somehow forgetting his wallet when we ended up in a pub. And then not giving me time to finish my own pint before he insisted on leaving."

"In other words, I should consider myself lucky," James comments with a smirk. Lewis doesn't answer; he stares down into his pint. 

James casts about for the right words for a moment or two, but then realises that his own words aren't the ones that will do the trick. He smiles slightly. "Lewis!"

Lewis manages an uncertain smile. Even in a situation like this, there's a tentativeness to him that there never used to be. James finds that heartbreaking.

"If you're going to start channelling Morse, I'm going to start pulling faces behind your back," Robbie says.

James snorts with laughter. "Is that what you did with him?"

Lewis's smile grows more certain. "A lot of the time, yeah. Few times he caught me at it. Never minded though. Minded a lot of things, but never minded that." He gives James a teasing look. "You, on the other hand, would be too clever for me to catch you."

That's another thing that's just different enough to be wrong. Lewis comments on his cleverness enough, but usually not at his own expense. Not to point out that James is cleverer than he. James would, prior to today, have been certain that Lewis has never harboured thoughts like that.

"No, I'd be too clever to try it, because I'd know you'd catch me," James counters.

"Anyway, you're not much of a face-puller," Lewis says.

James raises his eyebrows. "You think not?"

Lewis points at him. "That's what I mean. You only move one thing on your face at a time. Took me ages to be able to read that face and half the time I still get it wrong."

James shrugs. "Half the time I get it wrong, and it's my face."

_Rome wasn't built in a day_. It's a cliché, of course, but it's the only thought that comes to mind as James goes home afterwards. For all that Lewis is a long way from being back to his usual self, though, he feels he's made some progress, in that Lewis is talking a bit more - and if he realises how much he's revealing through what he's saying, he's not trying to cover it up.

* * *

But, over the next few days, what felt like a minute amount of progress becomes a clear step backwards. Instead of the unaccustomed silence as they do their jobs, Lewis is talking - asking James's opinion. What does James think of this? Should they talk to that witness again? Is this apparent lead significant, or is it just a red herring? Of course they've always discussed their cases, and in the early days these kind of questions were part of Lewis's training and mentoring of James. Now, they're Lewis relying on James to keep him on the right track.

Lewis isn't trusting his own judgement.

James tries, as much as he can, to push the process back to Lewis, talking the decisions through in such a way that Lewis has to say what he thinks. But he knows he can't be too obvious about it; he's already certain that Lewis knows he knows what's happened, which is why Lewis is trusting him with his uncertainty. But neither of them is talking about it, so they can keep up the pretence that there's nothing really wrong, and James knows nothing. He'd love to come up with a scenario where he needs Lewis's professional advice, and in which he can show Lewis that he's still got the same genius he always did, but he knows his boss would see straight through it and the trust they do have would be destroyed.

So they muddle through for a few days, with James increasingly afraid that Lewis's lack of confidence in himself is sooner or later going to cause him to make a major mistake, which can only have disastrous consequences for his career and his self-respect. 

Until one morning, when they've been summoned to Innocent's office to brief her on their latest case, and Lewis actually _fumbles_ his way through the summary of facts. Innocent's face grows darker and darker, though she doesn't comment. At the end, she says, "Theories so far?"

Lewis hesitates, glances at James with what's almost a plea for help, and then says, completely uncertain, "None yet, ma'am."

They do have two or three working theories, and in the old days Lewis wouldn't have hesitated to outline them, as well as their next steps. This... he's looking, and sounding, about as competent as a rookie DC, and worse still, Lewis knows it. His boss just hangs his head and waits for Innocent's verdict, and James knows he's never seen Lewis so broken.

"No theories," Innocent says, voice tight and displeased. "And how long have you been working on this case?"

Lewis doesn't lift his head. "A week, ma'am."

James doesn't know what to do. If he jumps in and tries to rescue them, that will only make things worse… making James look like the competent one and Lewis look like the disaster. No. James won't do that to him. Besides, then he might be reassigned to another inspector, and he can't imagine that wouldn't make things worse for everyone involved. His place is with Lewis, whatever that means.

"I think perhaps it's time to reassign this case to another team," Innocent says. "What do you think?"

Lewis would ordinarily reject any suggestion of the sort; James has seen him fight not to close a case when every bit of evidence they've collected so far suggests that it should be closed. And Lewis is always right not to close it. But he doesn't have any fight in him now. On good days, days when he was following a lead and thinking his way through a case, Lewis's presence and confidence could fill a room; now it can't even fill the chair he's sitting in.

Lewis's voice is barely audible now. "As you like, ma'am."

Innocent looks at Lewis, and James can tell that, in spite of her irritation and disappointment, she can see that something is wrong. "Is there something I should know?"

Lewis lifts his eyes to look at her, and for a moment, James thinks he's going to tell her, or at least stand up for himself. Then he lowers his eyes again. "About what, ma'am?"

Innocent gives James a questioning look, but James isn't going to discuss this in front of Lewis as if he isn't there. He hasn't even discussed it with Lewis yet, not really; he's not going to talk about it with someone else first. So he grimaces slightly but doesn't answer.

"We all have cases that get away from us," Innocent says, more gently this time. "Why don't you two take the rest of the day off to regroup? Then you can come in and start fresh with a new case."

Lewis nods. "Ma'am." He gets up to leave without a word.

James stands too, looking at Innocent and inclining his head to say _I'm going to follow him_ , and Innocent nods her understanding. James follows Lewis out of Innocent's office, uncertain what's going to happen now, but almost entirely certain it won't be good.

Lewis hasn't waited for James, and although James hurries to catch up with him Lewis doesn't even look at him. He walks ahead of James into their shared office and stands looking down at his desk for a long moment. Then he glances across at James. "Go on, get off home, man."

James just looks back at him, making clear by his stance that he's going nowhere.

"You heard Innocent. Go home."

James still doesn't move. "What are you going to do, sir?"

Lewis shrugs, as if he really doesn't care any more. He shifts some papers on his desk, then moves them to a drawer and locks it. A moment's hesitation, as if he's not sure what to do next, and then he powers down his computer. James turns to his own desk and does the same; if Lewis really is getting out of here, then he's going with his boss.

Lewis doesn't say a word as they walk down the stairs. His governor just looks straight ahead, acknowledging no-one they pass along the way. It's not until they reach Lewis's car that his governor looks at him again. "I'm sorry about this, James. Never meant to have this reflect badly on you. Look, when you come back tomorrow, go an' see Innocent. She'll assign you to a new governor – an' if she's any sense, she'll sign you up for OSPRE preparation."

James's heart is sinking into his boots. He wants to shout and scream, to tell Lewis that he refuses to give up on him, that Lewis is the only governor he wants. That, if Lewis will only let him help, together they can put things right again, bring Lewis back to his normal confident, capable self. His voice cracks as he says, "No, sir. I'm sorry, but I can't do that. You're the only governor I want, and I won't leave you."

"You won't have a choice, man." Lewis's voice is quiet, defeated. "I'm putting in for early retirement. Going home to start the forms now." He opens his car door and gets inside. "Good luck, James, an' thanks for everything."

Before James knows what he's doing, he's opened the door to Lewis's car and is sitting in the passenger seat.

Lewis looks at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not letting you leave like this," James says. He's trying to sound self-assured, though it is just a tiny bit daunting to be talking to his governor this way. He's done it once or twice before, but he has always backed down when Lewis made it plain he needed to. Now, though… James doesn't think he can back down. He's been too accommodating for too long, and all it's done is make things worse. He has to take a stand before Lewis fades out of their work for good… and maybe out of James's life.

"Get out of the car," Lewis says.

"No, sir," James says.

Now Lewis looks irate. "Get out of the car!"

"No, sir!" James doesn't raise his voice much but he makes it absolutely clear that he is not leaving. "How many times have you asked that I not resign when I thought I should? And you were right. You were always right." He turns to face Lewis. "You can't resign like this. If you leave now, you'll always believe you were bad at your job, and that's not true."

"It is true." Lewis is clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are white. "James, it is true. I'm not…" His breath catches, and he holds tight to that steering wheel as though it's all he's got left. "You saw me in there. I'm… I'm letting you down."

"You're not," James says firmly. "You're struggling. We all do."

"But not like this," Lewis says. "Nothing's… clear any more. Nothing's right. I can't even…" The failure of their meeting with Innocent seems to hit him afresh, and he folds, body bending forward as though the weight of his own failure is too much, his hands on the steering wheel the only thing keeping him upright.

James reaches out and rests his hand against Lewis's back. He'd like to pull the man into a hug, but Lewis would hate it, and anyway, they're still in the station car park. Anyone could see them, and that really wouldn't do anything for Lewis's already faltering reputation.

"Let me drive, sir," he says softly. It's yet another indicator of how defeated Lewis is that he gets out of the car without argument and walks around to the passenger side. James slides into the driver's seat and takes the keys Lewis passes him. "Your place, sir?"

"Not really in the mood for a pint," Lewis says, staring straight ahead.

"I just meant as opposed to mine," James says as he indicates to turn left out of the car park.

"Mine," Lewis agrees, and is silent for the rest of the journey.

* * *

At Lewis's flat, they go inside, and James stares in disbelief at the interior. Empty bottles and mugs on the coffee-table. Dishes and packaging piled up on every surface in the kitchen. Rubbish overflowing in the kitchen bin. Unopened letters scattered around the place. Christ.

He touches Lewis's shoulder fleetingly. "Why don't you go and get changed, sir? I'll put the kettle on."

"There's no need for you to stay, James." Lewis barely glances in his direction. "Go on, get yourself off home."

"If you think I'm leaving you now..." He trails off, not wanting another argument. "Go on, get changed."

Once Lewis is out of sight, James puts the kettle on, then collects up the dirty dishes and stacks them in the dishwasher. A couple of quick trips outside and the rubbish is all gone. He's wiping down the countertops when Lewis re-emerges, dressed in jeans and a burgundy jumper. 

If only he could sort his boss out as easily as he did the flat...

He brings the coffee over to the sofa, where Lewis is already sitting. His governor accepts the coffee with a grunt, and then looks at James. The pain in Lewis's eyes is enough to break James's heart. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, James, but it's not going to work. You've got to look after your own career now. Leave me be."

He lays his hand firmly on Lewis's shoulder, a gesture of comfort as well as a sign that he's going nowhere. "Forget careers. This is you and me – James and Robbie, not Lewis and Hathaway. Can I talk to you as a friend?"

The look in Lewis's eyes is so vulnerable, as if he's not sure James means it. But after a moment's consideration, he nods, answering softly, "Yes."

_Right. That only leaves me figuring out what I'm meant to say_. James senses the terrible precariousness of this, how easily he could say the wrong thing… but, on the other hand, it doesn't seem Lewis's self-esteem could sink much lower than it is right now. Still, James has to think for what feels like a long while before he says anything.

"You may or may not believe this," James says quietly, "but it's true. I know what it is to doubt yourself. And I know how insidious it is. How it gets into your head, and changes what should be a straightforward decision into an infinite number of possibilities."

Lewis nods, staring listlessly into his coffee but not drinking it.

"So I know… or think I know," James says, "that all you can see right now are your flaws."

"That's the hell of it, isn't it?" Lewis asks. "Because I know I didn't used to be like this. And I wouldn't have… chosen it. But now I look back at who I was, and… I don't know how to be him any more."

James's heart aches at the admission, at the pain and confusion in it, but he sees it as a potentially positive thing that Lewis is at least beginning to talk about what's happening with him. "Go on."

"Everything's become damage control," Lewis whispers. "Only the more I try to fix it, the worse everything gets." He darts a nervous look at James. "I shouldn't be telling you this…"

"I told you, we're talking as friends," James says softly. "You can tell me anything you want."

To reinforce what he's just said, he stands so that he can remove his jacket and tie. He hangs them over one of the kitchen chairs, and then returns to Lewis – Robbie. "See? Not a copper. Just James." He sits again. "I shouldn't tell you this either, but since we're talking as friends... I think I know what happened at that seminar. That _fucking wanker_ of a so-called facilitator used you as a punch-bag to stop anyone else challenging his ignorance of real policing, didn't he?"

"Eh?" Robbie looks at him. "I... it was me. Nothing I said was... I got it all wrong, every time."

"No, you didn't." James reaches out and lays his hand on Lewis's forearm. "The bastard picked on you. Made a public example of you so that no-one else would dare challenge him. If someone like you, one of the best detectives in the room, got silenced, then no-one else was going to try."

Lewis shakes his head. "Nice of you to say it, man, but you weren't there."

"I took the liberty of speaking to someone who was, sir." He waits for Lewis's anger; this really was a liberty, after all, and Lewis has every right to be furious.

"Not sir, James." Lewis's other hand comes over to cover his. "Robbie. And..." He frowns. "That's really what that person said?"

"It is – Robbie." He meets Robbie's gaze, his expression completely sincere. "He said everyone was just too relieved it was you and not them to say anything. He seemed to think you'd just decided to keep your head down and get the two weeks over with, in the end." 

"I just didn't want to be wrong," Robbie whispers. 

James turns his hand over so that he's gripping Robbie's. "You weren't, though. You really weren't."

Robbie releases a long, slow sigh. "Maybe that's true. Doesn't make any difference, though, does it?"

James frowns. "It doesn't?"

Robbie's fingers grip his tightly. "The damage is done, lad. I don't know how to be meself any more. That's why it's better all round if I do just retire now."

James feels a stab of panic. No. This was supposed to…this was supposed to work. This was supposed to make him feel better and… and realise… "But… but…"

"You'll do all right, James," Robbie says reassuringly. "You're a good copper and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You've been carrying me since I came back; you'll do better when you don't have to."

"No!" The response is both more vehement and louder than James had planned. "No, that's not… I don't _care_ about that. You can't ever get your confidence back if you just… if you give up, Robbie."

"Might not be able to get it back in any case, James," Robbie says quietly.

"But you have to _try_. I need you to try. And I'll help you. I want to help you. Please."

"You've _been_ helping me. And it's no good. After today…" Robbie shudders at the thought.

"But I can help you better now that I don't have to pretend nothing's wrong," James says. "We'll work on it together. I can show you that your instincts are just as good as they ever were. You have to learn to listen to them again, that's all."

Robbie looks a bit bewildered. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I need you!" That was a bit of a stronger statement than James meant to make, but he thinks maybe it won't be as complicated now as it might otherwise be. He softens his tone and decides to go for broke. "Because you're my friend, and I need you."

Robbie's eyes grow soft. "James, it's kind of you to say. But you don't. Not really. You're gonna be a far better copper than I ever was." 

"Not without you, I won't." He takes a deep breath. "I swear, Robbie, if you retire I really will resign. I've threatened before, and you always talked me out of it. But what I said before still holds: if you go, I go."

Robbie looks torn. "I can't let you do that. But I can't stay an' do a job I'm useless at just to stop you from resigning. There's not much I wouldn't do for you, James, but that's one thing I won't."

He's fighting a losing battle here, and it _hurts_. "If you really wanted to resign, I'd support you. If it was because you wanted to spend more time with Lyn and your grandson, or you've just had enough after nearly forty years, I'd understand completely. I'd support you, and I'd probably still resign with you. I'm fighting you here because I _don't_ believe you really want to go."

Robbie pulls his hand away. "Believe it." His voice is harsh now, and James knows he chose the wrong argument.

It's James's turn to sit hunched over now. "If you resign now, like this... you're always going to believe you're a failure. I can't let you do that to yourself. I just _can't_."

Robbie sighs. "I know you care, James. I don't mean to make you think I'm not... grateful for it. It's just... you can't fix me, and I wish you'd stop trying."

"I can't," James whispers. There's one more thing he can try. It's cruel, and he hates himself for even thinking about it, but desperate measures... 

"What would Morse think if he knew about this? What would Val?"

The look on Robbie's face is awful. He was already vulnerable, already in pain, but now he's staring at James in pure bewilderment, as though he doesn't understand, can't understand, because this is James, and James couldn't have said something like that.

"That's not fair," Robbie whispers. He searches James's face with his eyes, looking for some sign that he's misheard, that he's misunderstood somehow. "James, that's… how… how can you…?"

James steels himself to continue, even though it's the last thing he wants to do. "What would Morse say? Right now? What would he tell you if he were here and saw this?"

Even as wounded as Robbie must feel right now, he's still trying to understand, still trusting James enough to try to consider the question. "He… he w-would…" Robbie takes a deep, shaky breath. "…shout at me, probably…"

"What would he say?" James presses.

"Don't be st-stupid… he wouldn't put up with me if I were… as bad as that…" Robbie hiccups.

"And Val?"

Robbie looks at James, begging him silently not to. "Please…"

_I'm so sorry_. "If Val were here, what would she say?"

"H-how…" Robbie takes another deep breath, obviously overcome. "…how can I… throw away… everything I w-worked for…" He bends forward, raking his hands through his hair, looking ready to dissolve at any minute.

Everything in him wants to take Robbie in his arms and tell him it's all right, that he was wrong, he shouldn't have pushed him this cruelly. But he can't, because if he does then he'll just have hurt Robbie senselessly, for naught.

He has to stand his ground here, even if it just means hurting Robbie more – even if it means Robbie never forgives him.

"You see?" His tone's firm, though he allows it to be softened slightly by gentleness. "You can't let them down, can you?"

"They're not here to let down, are they?" Robbie's voice is cracking; he's on the verge of tears.

"Their memory is. They were both so proud of you, Robbie. And deservedly. This – what that bastard's driven you to – isn't the real Robbie Lewis, the one they loved and admired. What did they admire about you? What made them proudest?"

For a long moment, he thinks he really has gone too far this time, that Robbie isn't going to answer him. That this is it; after seven years, and many mistakes on his part, and some awful lies – all of which Robbie forgave him – he's finally managed to make Robbie Lewis reject him. And the horrible irony is that it's all because he was trying to help his governor, out of loyalty and love.

But then he hears Robbie shift, and he turns to see that his friend is looking at him. Robbie's eyes are bright with unshed tears, and his hands are shaking. But he's meeting James's eyes, and that's all that matters.

"What about you, James? What about me makes you proudest?"

This is not the time to overthink things. James knows that. This is the time to speak from the heart, and even though James isn't always sure what he believes, he sends up a silent prayer pleading not to get this wrong. To have the right words now, if he ever has them.

"Your compassion," James says, meeting Robbie's eyes, willing Robbie to understand, to believe him. "Not that you can't be firm or harsh or difficult when the situation demands it, but… you can be so kind. And you understand people. What motivates them. What they want. Sometimes, what hurts them. And you know how to be with so many different types of people. I've seen you be gentle and I've seen you be a terror, and you always seem to know which is needed."

Robbie manages a slight smile at that. But James isn't done.

"But you're compassionate in other ways, too," James says. "I work under your supervision. Officially. But there has never been one day you've made me feel like I'm less than you or…" He has to check himself for a moment, because this isn't, can't be, about him. This is about what Robbie has done for him, and how important it is. "I've made some mistakes, some howlers, and yes, you've been angry, but you've never treated me as anything less than a full partner and a colleague. I don't think you've always liked me, but you've always respected me. I – I've always felt as though I had a place beside you, in more than one way." He nods. "Compassion, Robbie. That's what I'm proudest of about you."

He hopes that was a good speech he's just made, because objectively, he has no idea, and he feels spent, as though he's just run some sort of marathon and has only realised it at the end. But he's still looking at Robbie and Robbie is still looking at him.

After a long silence, Robbie slides his hand across and takes James's hand in his. James can still feel the slight tremors in Robbie's hand, even with Robbie's hand holding his.

"Do you still want one?" Robbie says.

James tries to work out what Robbie is referring to. "What?"

"A place next to me."

James tries not to get his hopes up. "Yes. Of course." He squeezes Robbie's hand, trying to show his support, his sincerity.

Robbie nods slowly. "I'll… I'll see what I can do."

And that – that is far more than he thought he could have hoped for five minutes ago. He looks straight at Robbie. "Thank you." The words are heartfelt, and he hopes Robbie knows that. 

But Robbie shakes his head. "No. Thank _you_ , James. For not giving up on me." He pauses for several moments, then says, "For what it's worth, I have always liked you, once I got to know you. And I've come to understand Morse better in the last few years, because I realised how much I wouldn't want to do this job without you. But, assuming I stay, I won't hold you back - if you want to go for promotion–" 

"Robbie." James cuts across him. "Not interested. If I'm not working with you, I don't want to do the job. But I think..." He squeezes Robbie's hand again, then stands, letting his friend's hand go. "We should put this aside for now. Another coffee?"

"Yeah, all right." Robbie follows James into the kitchen, and together they rinse their mugs and make preparations. And then, just as the kettle's coming to a boil, Robbie looks at James and shakes his head slightly. "You... What would I do without you?" He reaches for James and pulls him into a tight bear-hug. James hugs back, more relieved than he can say.

* * *

They've finished their coffee, and James is thinking he should leave Robbie – no, Lewis again now – alone to rest for the remainder of the day. He's probably not been sleeping well, if James's guess is right.

But Lewis is looking at him, eyebrow raised. "What d'you want to do?"

"Do?"

"We've got the day off. It's still only eleven. Could go out for a drive somewhere, have lunch, go for a walk... d'you fancy it?"

James smiles, pleased, because this is the first time he's seen Robbie take some initiative in far too long. Of his own volition, too…not because it's something James has suggested. "I'd like that very much. Where should we go?"

"I was thinking somewhere quiet," Robbie says. "Somewhere we can hear ourselves think… somewhere near a place we can walk without anyone disturbing us."

James nods. "Sounds perfect to me. We can drive and see what we find…how about that? See what restaurants might be there along the way… or places to get out and stretch our legs. We don't have to plan anything."

Robbie gives James a slight smile. "Not getting all spontaneous on me, are you?"

James returns the smile. "Perish the thought. I point to the fact that we've just made a plan to be spontaneous and submit that actual spontaneous people don't do that."

Robbie chuckles softly, and it's a glorious sound. "Need anything from your flat before we go?"

James shakes his head. "Not unless you're planning some sort of forest yoga, in which case I'll need my mat."

"With my back, yoga could have me in hospital for a year," Robbie retorts.

* * *

They do go briefly to James's flat, just so that he can change, and then head west to Tewkesbury, at James's suggestion. He was there once on a school outing years ago, and always wanted to come back. Besides the Abbey, there's the two rivers for pleasant walking, and a variety of tearooms as well as art galleries and other places of interest. Or, if Robbie doesn't feel like sightseeing, they can just sit and watch the narrow-boats drift past.

And it's a lovely afternoon. The weather is perfect, the pub they choose for lunch as they arrive in the town has excellent food, and Robbie is genuinely interested in the sights of the town – and he doesn't even complain about wandering around the Abbey with James later on.

It's almost eight o'clock when they finally leave to drive back to Oxford. "Tell you what," Robbie says as they join the M5 heading south, "I wouldn't mind coming back and spending a weekend. Lovely countryside, and there's lots to do in the area." He glances in James's direction. "What d'you think?"

"I think you'd enjoy it, sir." James gives him a warm smile. Robbie's been relaxed and apparently happy all afternoon, and it's been wonderful to see.

Robbie sighs. "Told you, no sirring me. At work, yeah, but friends don't stand on ceremony. An' I was askin' if you'd fancy it."

"Oh!" James can feel the pink flush creeping up his neck and face as embarrassed pleasure fills him. "I didn't realise. Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. Next time we have a long weekend off, yeah? As long as you don't have other plans – one of your festivals?"

"None this year." Which left a couple of bank holidays before colder weather arrived, and surely they could manage to get one of them off?

Back in Oxford, he expect Robbie to drop him at his flat, which he does – but he gives James an expectant look as he parks the car. It's after half past nine, so he hadn't thought... But James can take a hint. "Come in for coffee?"

Conversation's general, their usual gently mocking exchanges – and it's so good to be back to this normal state of affairs. But then Robbie drains his coffee and stands. "Time I went. But first..." He meets James's gaze again, his own sincere and with what James recognises as real affection. "Thank you. I don't know anyone else – well, apart from Val and maybe Morse, though he'd have gone about it completely cack-handed – who'd have cared enough to do what you did for me. I won't forget it." 

James dips his head. "It wasn't entirely selfless, you know."

"I know, and thank you for that, as well." Robbie touches the back of his hand lightly. "Just in case you're still wondering, I'm not gonna apply for retirement. I won't say everything'll be back to normal immediately, but I'll do me best."

He couldn't help it; James closes his eyes briefly and releases a silent prayer of thanks. He hears Robbie laugh as he opens his eyes. "Oh, you." And he's pulled into another bear-hug, one he enthusiastically returns.

"I'll pick you up for work in the morning," Robbie says then, and leaves.

* * *

In the morning, James slides into Robbie's car with two travel mugs full of coffee. "Made you some as well. Thought you might need it."

Robbie gives James a warm look. "Thanks, man. I will. Because we're going in to see Innocent this morning."

James is intensely curious what they're going to talk to Innocent about, but he simply nods.

Not that he's fooling Robbie, who says knowingly, "You're not curious at all?"

"I thought if I needed to know, you'd tell me," James says, flashing Robbie a small grin.

Robbie returns the grin, resting his hand over James's for a moment. Then he turns the key in the ignition. "Come on. Can't muck about all day."

When they reach the office, Robbie is a man with a mission, and strides into Innocent's office, Hathaway close behind. "I want me case back."

"Good morning to you," Innocent says. "And what's brought this on?"

Robbie lays everything out for her – facts of the case, their current theories, their next steps, everything. "So if you haven't reassigned it, ma'am, or even if you have, I'd like to see it through with Sergeant Hathaway."

"As it happens, I haven't," Innocent says. "I'll give it back to you, but I expect to see results. Is that understood?"

Both of them murmur a "yes, ma'am," and then they leave for their office.

As they walk back toward their office, Robbie walks a bit closer to James, so their hands can brush against each other; clearly he wants to take James's hand but not in such a public place.

"Did I do all right?" Robbie whispers.

James knows they can't expect everything to be resolved now. But it's an important difference… now Robbie is making the decisions, acting on them, and only then asking the question.

"You were brilliant," James says firmly, letting his fingers brush Robbie's.

They solve the case two days later, and Robbie breaks down their key suspect after less than half an hour in the interview room. He's there on his own, other than the custody officer, because neither of them want him to get used to using James as a crutch. So James is watching from the observation room as Innocent comes to join him.

"Everything all right, sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am." He gestures towards Robbie and their suspect. "I'd give it about another five minutes."

It only takes two, and Robbie has the confession. Innocent nods sharply, as if she's expected it, but she then gives James a thoughtful look. "Don't suppose you'd care to tell me what happened?"

He widens his eyes. "Happened, ma'am?"

She huffs a little. "As I thought. Carry on, sergeant."

Robbie's in full control of the situation as he exits a few minutes later, sweeping James back up to their office with him and issuing a string of instructions as they walk. But, once inside the office, he pauses and grips James's hand, brief but affectionate. He doesn't say anything, but his expression says it all.

And that evening, initial paperwork done, they adjourn to the Trout for a pint before going back to Robbie's with a takeaway, a few bottles of Bridge and James's overnight bag. "Sorry I've only got the couch to offer you," Robbie says as they walk into the flat. "About time I thought about getting a bigger place. Second bedroom'd be handy."

"I really don't mind," James assures him. And he doesn't. It's enough that Robbie wants him around, is comfortable having him sleep in his flat.

"I do. A best mate deserves better than a couch that's too short."

James feels an inner warmth, and try as he might, he can't keep a bit of shyness from seeping into his question. "Best mate?"

Robbie gives him a genuinely surprised look. "Thought you'd know that by now."

James doesn't want to make the conversation about him, so he just shrugs.

Robbie crosses to him and takes his hand. "Not one in a million would've done for me what you did. Told you I wouldn't forget, and I won't, and haven't. The only…" He pauses, gives James's hand a gentle squeeze, and then continues, "The only reason I've been able to do any of this is because I knew you were there. Not… not as someone to do the work for me, but… someone who knew I could do it."

"You'll always have that from me," James says quietly.

"Aye, I know that now," Robbie says just as quietly. He tugs gently on James's hand…not to lead him anywhere, just for the contact, James thinks. "Funny…"

"What is?" James asks.

"Everything seems all right when I've got hold of you," Robbie says.

Completely unsure of how he should respond to that, and terrified that he'll ruin things by letting Robbie see how affected he is by it, he takes refuge in humour. "One of my best-kept secrets. My hand is imbued with mystical powers of well-being."

Robbie shakes his head. "Soft lad. Why's it so hard for you to accept it when I say something nice about you?"

"Um..." Robbie's right, of course. He always turns it into self-deprecating mockery, doesn't he? "Sorry."

"Nah. Just don't do it again, all right?" Robbie brushes James's fingers with his as he releases James's hand. "Think I'm not the only one who needs to believe in himself, eh?"

After they've eaten, and they're slumped on the sofa half-watching whatever rubbish is on TV, Robbie looks at James again. "Meant it, y'know. The last few days, any time I started to doubt meself again, I only had to touch your hand and I felt better. More meself."

James covers Robbie's hand with his. "I am glad. And... any time. You know that." He hesitates, glancing down at their hands on Robbie's lap. "I... it's reassuring... for me, too."

Robbie turns his hand over and holds James's again. "It's like... Val was always able to do that, just by touching me. Or hugging."

"Oh." Startled, James looks at Robbie. "I... I'm glad... I..." He trails off, lost for words at the fondness he sees in Robbie's eyes.

"So we've had the hand-holding bit," Robbie says quietly, looking at James's hand. "D'you fancy trying the hugging?"

James nods, not sure yet exactly what this is but also knowing that it doesn't matter, because… because whatever it is, he wants it. "I think we should."

They're already very close, so it doesn't take much doing for Robbie to curl up against James's side, arms around James's middle, head on his shoulder. James drapes one arm around Robbie's shoulders and rests his other arm atop Robbie's, soaking in the open affection Robbie's offering. It's been so long.

"Good result?" James asks quietly.

"Very good result," Robbie answers. "And for you?"

"Yes," James whispers. "Very good result."

Robbie closes his eyes. "Should do this more often."

James smiles, resting his cheek against Robbie's hair. "I'm game if you are."

"Any time," Robbie murmurs. "Well, not in the nick."

"No." James smothers a laugh at the thought of Innocent walking in on them like this. "But... any time, other than that."

"Feels nice." Robbie's voice rumbles against his shoulder. "Maybe the rest of you's got mystical powers of well-being, too."

"Feel free to test your theory," James suggests. "I am at your disposal." If it keeps Robbie in his arms for a while longer, that's all that matters. Holding and being held... it feels so good, so comforting, so much as if he _belongs_.

Robbie shifts slightly, and James's heart sinks. It couldn't last, he should have known that, shouldn't he?

But Robbie's not moving away; he's moving closer, bringing the hand that was across James's chest up to his face, and his face is coming nearer. "Let's see if this works." 

And, in a whisper-like caress, his lips brush the edge of James's mouth.

James's eyes close instinctively, and he shivers, leaning his cheek into Robbie's touch.

"That a good shiver, lad?" Robbie asks, and his voice is affectionate, but it's clear he does genuinely want to know if something is amiss.

"Yes," James whispers, eyes still closed. He turns his head slightly to kiss Robbie's fingers where they rest against his face.

He hears Robbie's breath hitch. "That… works."

James turns his head and gives Robbie an amused look. "I have picked up a few things."

Then Robbie's lips press gently against his, and James makes a muffled sound of need in the back of his throat, because, oh yes, he wants this so very much. It's like discovering something new he didn't know existed but now never wants to part with.

He shifts position so he can wrap his arm more comfortably around Robbie's shoulders and bring his other hand up to cup the back of Robbie's head. Robbie murmurs something indistinct, and deepens the kiss. James feels his stomach flip over, and he holds Robbie tighter, closer, as he parts his lips and kisses back, pouring all his love for this man into the action.

"Ah, James." Robbie sighs against his lips. "James."

"Is that... good?" he asks, anxious.

Robbie chuckles softly. "Course it is, you daft thing." He kisses James again. "Maybe you should've just done this the other day. Might've worked. Those mystical powers an' all."

James laughs gently. "Hard to use mystical powers you don't know you have," he jokes. "But if I'd known this would work…" He kisses Robbie again.

"Yeah," Robbie whispers. "Yeah, it works."

There's so much attempting to go on in James's mind right now, but none of it seems to be getting through to him at the moment. Right now, all he can do is feel – feel the wonder and amazement that this is happening, the joy that he has someone to care for and to care for him, and most of all the love itself. There's a reason there are so many songs and poems and things written about it.

Robbie chooses that moment to ask, "What are you thinking?"

And James giggles, an unfamiliar, buoyant sound and feeling that seems to bubble out of him. "Nothing. And it's perfect." He kisses Robbie yet again.

A long time later, Robbie raises his head a couple of inches off James's shoulder. "Been thinking."

"Hmm. Not sure I approve. Not if you thinking means you're getting ready to move."

"Have to in a bit, won't I? But... Thing is, this hugging and all... be a shame if it had to stop. Especially since it's working so well."

"Good point," James says, considering. "Why would it have to stop?"

"Well, have to go to bed some time, don't we? But that's my point." Robbie brushes his lips over James's jaw. "Forget the couch. My bed's the perfect size for hugging, did you know?"

"Mmm. I suppose it is." Warmth envelops him; not just the warmth of Robbie's embrace here, now, but everything that invitation implies. That Robbie wants to be - and stay - as close to him as he wants to be with Robbie. His willingness to offer the intimacy of a shared sleeping space. That this _is_ somewhere James belongs.

"That's settled, then." Robbie lets his head fall back onto James's shoulder. "Good."

James closes his eyes and leans his head against Robbie's. "Robbie?" 

"Hm?"

"Tell me something."

Robbie rubs James's chest gently. "I love the colour of your eyes."

James feels that warmth again. "No, I mean, will you tell me something?"

"If I can."

James is nervous asking the question, but he has to know. "We'll do this again… won't we?"

"Mm," Robbie murmurs, nuzzling James's shoulder with his cheek. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"This?" James can't keep the hope out of his voice.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Robbie murmurs. "Now I've got you and your mystical powers, I'll need them here… with me." He opens his eyes to look up at James, adoration clear in his expression. "Good result?"

James lets his kiss answer for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Wendymr: Much appreciation to Paperscribe for her generosity in allowing me to play in her sandbox, and for playing along with me.


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